


The Methos and Sekhmet Chronicles: The Messenger

by voiceoftime



Series: The Methos and Sekhmet Chronicles [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceoftime/pseuds/voiceoftime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Past in the Present. My reworking of the Season 5 Episode, The Messenger. Methos/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own it, alright? Geez, can’t you let a girl have her fantasies?

Ch. 1:

Richie rode his bike along a dark, deserted highway and pulled up to a closed gate. He turned off the bike and got off, walking to the gate. It was closed and he pulled on it in frustration before sighing. Suddenly, he turned and looked around, feeling another nearby. He walked away from the fence and a man walked onto the road. Richie walked straight to his bike, grabbing his sword, before leveling it at the new comer.

“I’m Richie Ryan.” He told the man.

“Don’t be afraid, Richie Ryan.” The man said in a low voice.

“No?” Richie asked. “What makes you think I’m scared?”

“I just want to talk.” The man said.

“About what?” Richie demanded. “The weather? Monday night football?”

“Peace.” The man replied.

“Hey, buddy.” Richie said, laughing slightly and holding up a peace sign. “Totally. That’s a good line, pal, but no dice.”

“I swear you’re in no danger.” The man told him. “I stopped taking heads long ago. I’m not even armed.”

“Come on, buddy.” Richie scoffed as he circled the man. “You know the drill. Everyone carries a sword, everyone takes heads. We fight or we die.”

“That’s what we were taught.” The man said. “But what if we could end the fighting?”

Richie continued to circle him, holding his sword closer to the man’s neck.

“Imagine.” The man said, not seeming disturbed by the sword in the slightest. “What if all Immortals could live in peace? Real, eternal peace.”

“Who are you?” Richie demanded.

“I am…the oldest of us living still.” The man replied. “I am Methos.” He turned to face Richie. “It’s up to you, Richie Ryan.” He got down on his knees and Richie raised his sword. “You can take my head, or you can think about what I said.”

Richie got ready for the blow.

* * *

Duncan sat on the side of a dock looking at a boat named Windpuppet.

“I thought you’re friend was a’comin’.” Harry said.

“Ah, Richie gets here when he gets here.” Duncan replied getting to his feet and walking the length of the boat. “But you’re right about her, Harry, she has got good lines. But she’s going to need a major refit.”

“Uh, yep.” Harry agreed.

“She’s going to need new rigging, the engine’s taken salt, and she’s probably got rot below the water line.” Duncan pointed out. “She’s not worth 50,000, she’s not even worth 40,000!”

“Nope.” Harry agreed.

“What’d you bring me down here for?” Duncan asked.

“Because,” Harry said, standing up straighter, “she’ll go for 20.”

“Oh, I might’ve known it.” Duncan said, laughing. “You’re an old goat.”

His face suddenly fell as he felt the presence of another Immortal. He looked around and spotted a man in a tan coat standing on the dock below. The man stared at Duncan for a moment before moving off.

“So, do you want her?” Harry asked.

“I’ll be right back, Harry.” Duncan told him.

Without another word, Duncan moved off down the dock. As he followed the man, he remember the last time he had met this particular immortal.

* * *

_Georgia 1864:_

_Duncan was leading a young slave, Jeffery, past the Confederate lines to meet his future bride, who Duncan had already smuggled to Philadelphia. As they moved through the forest, they were suddenly spotted by soldiers._

_“Get going.” Duncan told Jeffery, tossing him the canteen._

_He reached for his gun._

_“No, don’t!” Jeffery said, running to push Duncan to the ground as the soldiers fired._

_As they got up, Duncan rolled Jeffery over to see that he had been shot in the leg._

_“Don’t move or I’ll shoot you, I swear I will.” A soldier threatened as they were surrounded._

_There was nowhere to go._

* * *

 

_“Move along.” The soldiers ordered the column of captives._

_“Easy, Jeffery.” Duncan said, helping him to walk._

_“My leg’s shot up pretty bad.” Jeffery told him. “I don’t think I can make it.”_

_“It’s alright, Jeffery.” Duncan told him. “We’ll get you to a doctor, as soon as we get there.”_

_“Aha!” Jeffery yelled, falling to the ground._

_Some of the Union soldiers tried to stop and help, but the Confederate soldiers pushed them along._

_“On your feet, boy.” One of them ordered._

_“The bullet shattered his leg.” Duncan told him. “He can’t walk.”_

_“Well then you can carry him or he stays here.” The soldier said, pointing his gun at Jeffery._

_“No.” Duncan said, covering Jeffery._

_“You ride with the devil, you fry with the devil.” The soldier said as Duncan lifted Jeffery._

_“Come on, Jeffery.” Duncan said. “Up, up, up.”_

_“Now get going.” The soldier said, kicking Jeffery’s crutch away as Duncan reached for it. “And tell that slave, he better hurry.”_

_“We don’t belong here, Mr. McLeod.” Jeffery said as Duncan helped him stagger along. “We ain’t even soldiers.”_

_“It’s alright, Jeffery.” Duncan told him. “You stay close to me and I’ll take care of you.”_

* * *

 

_The soldiers led them to a prison camp by the name of Andersonville._

_“Move it up, move it up, boys.” A soldier called as they approached the gate. “Keep walking.”_

_The gates opened as they approached and the soldiers led the prisoners through it._

_“Welcome to hell, boys.” One called, laughing._

_As they made their way through the crowd, a young man attacked Jeffery, trying to get his canteen. Duncan quickly pushed him off and to the ground._

_“I don’t believe these are Union Soldiers.” One of the new prisoners said, looking around before kneeling in front of the man._

_“They were.” Duncan told him._

_“Who’s in charge of this hell hole?” the man demanded. “Speak up, soldier.”_

_Duncan tensed as he felt another immortal and looked around. Up on the wall, a man wearing the markings of a colonel stopped in front of the crowd._

_“I think we’re about to find out.” Duncan said, answering the man’s question._

_“You have been warned.” The colonel called. “There is no escape from Andersonville. It is futile. It is suicidal for those that try and for others.”_

_As the man talked, Jeffery began to fall, so Duncan helped him to sit on the ground._

_“What I do now,” the man continued, “is on your heads. Not mine.”_

_He paused for a moment as the crowd grumbled._

_“Sergeant Hickson.” He called._

_“Yes, sir!” the man replied from the ground._

_“Select three men.” The colonel ordered._

_The sergeant immediately began picking men at random from the crowd. At the same time, the crowd of soldiers began trying to fight back._

_“You know the rules.” The colonel called. “For every one who tries to escape, three others die!”_

_The shouting from the men got louder._

_“Silence!” he shouted. “Silence!”_

_“Yeah, but that’s murder!” Duncan called._

_“No one questions my authority here.” The colonel told him. “Bring him to my quarters.”_

_One of the soldiers came and led Duncan away, leaving Jeffery alone._

* * *

 

_Duncan found the Immortal sitting at his desk and was led inside._

_“Colonel William Evert Culbraith.” The man introduced himself._

_“Duncan McLeod.” Duncan replied as the soldier shoved him further inside._

_“Have a seat sir.” Culbraith said, motioning to a chair._

_“I’ll stand.” Duncan replied shortly._

_“I’m guessing you’re an Abolitionist, Mr. McLeod.” Culbraith said, studying Duncan. “It may surprise you to learn that I, myself, hold ill feeling towards the institution of Slavery. As a matter of face, on my farm, just outside of Atlanta, my wife and I have no slaves at all.”_

_“Really?” Duncan replied. “But you have Andersonville.”_

_“You don’t approve of my prison.” Culbraith stated._

_“Prison?” Duncan repeated. “This is not a prison, it’s a slaughter house.”_

_“It’s all slaughter, McLeod.” Culbraith replied, standing up. “What they do. What we do.” He turned to look at the window. “I’ve seen more death in this war then I’ve seen in a dozen lifetimes. And I’m sick of war. Theirs and ours.” He turned back to Duncan. “But I’m a soldier, sir. And I have my orders.”_

_“Do your orders tell you to treat these men like animals?” Duncan demanded._

_“They behave like animals!” Culbraith shot back. “It’s because of the way they treat each other! No discipline. No honor. They kill each other for a crust of bread.”_

_“Cause they’re starving!” Duncan insisted. “These men are soldiers, they demand respect.”_

_“These soldiers are destroying the South!” Culbraith told him. “My South! And the truth is, I have nothing to feed them. Times are hard. My own troops are on half rations. What would you have me do?”_

_“First off, I’d spare those men you’re about to shoot.” Duncan told him._

_Culbraith walked back to the window and looked out._

_“I can’t afford mercy.” He said, sighing softly. “I let one escape attempt go unpunished…discipline breaks down. Without discipline, we descend into chaos. And I will not suffer chaos under my command.”_

_“They’re not animals, they’re soldier!” Duncan protested._

_There was the sound of gunfire and then silence._

_“Killing them won’t stop others from trying to escape!” Duncan stressed._

_He leaned on Culbraith’s desk and Culbraith drew his sword as the soldiers moved to pull Duncan back._

_“I don’t like killing, McLeod, but I will if I have to.” Culbraith said, pointing his sword at Duncan as the soldiers dragged him out._

_“Wait, I need to talk to you about a doctor!” Duncan protested. “I need to talk about a doctor!”_

* * *

Duncan forced Culbraith back as they fought on the docks, his expression never changing with every blow delivered and dealt. They locked swords and Duncan forced Culbraith’s hand to the railing. Culbraith quickly backed away and Duncan followed. Culbraith pushed Duncan, but he caught the former colonel in the stomach, pulling it horizontally across his abdomen. As Culbraith collapsed, Duncan readied himself for the final blow.

“Mac, don’t do it!” a voice yelled.

Duncan turned to see Richie running up the dock. While he was distracted, Culbraith used the moment to roll off the dock and into the water.

“Just give me a chance to explain.” Richie said as he approached.

“What’s to explain?” Duncan replied angrily. “Because of you, that murdering bastard is still alive!”

“So what?” Richie asked.

“So what?” Duncan repeated. “You want Culbraith to live? Do have any idea what he is?”

“It doesn’t matter what he is, it’s gotta stop!” Richie told him.

“What has to stop?” Duncan demanded.

“All of it.” Richie replied. “The fighting, the dying, the taking heads!” Duncan started to walk away. “Mac, it’s gotta go! Listen to me, we can end it!”

Duncan stared at him.

“Because you say so?” he asked incredulously before going back to look in the water.

“Just hear me out, okay?” Richie said, following him. “Someone taught you to fight. Someone taught him that and someone before that.”

“Because that’s the way it is.” Duncan told him.

“That’s not the way it has to be.” Richie protested. “Mac, I’m talking about peace. All of us, living in peace.”

“It can’t happen.” Duncan told him.

“Why not?” Richie demanded.

“Because of men like Culbraith.” Duncan replied.

* * *

_Andersonville, 1864:_

_A fellow prisoner brought Duncan some water as he worked on Jeffery’s leg._

_“This is going to hurt, Jeffery.” He told the young man._

_“You go ahead, Mr. McLeod.” Jeffery told him. “You do what you have to.” He was silent for a moment. “Tell me again how my Sarah looked.”_

_“She looked beautiful, as usual.” Duncan replied as he unwound the bandage around the man’s leg._

_“We’re gonna get married.” Jeffery said, smiling through his pain. “Gonna name our first born Duncan, if it’s a boy.”_

_Duncan ripped back Jeffery’s pants leg to get a better look at the wound._

_“How is it?” Jeffery asked, sitting up slightly._

_Duncan sighed and looked away from the wound._

_“I’m sorry, Jeffery.” He told him. “It’s the gangrene.”_

_“This can’t be!” Jeffery exchanged, trying to sit up, but Duncan stopped him._

_“Jeffery, the leg’s got to come off.” He told him softly._

_“No.” Jeffery said, shaking his head._

_“If it doesn’t, the infection will spread.” Duncan explained, laying Jeffery back down. “You’ve got to do it, Jeffery. It’s gonna be okay.”_

_Jeffery hesitated for a moment, but he finally nodded._

_“You’ll see Sarah again.” Duncan promised. “And you’ll have lots of children.”_

_“Just won’t be able to run no races with them.” Jeffery replied._

_Duncan looked away for a moment._

_“You stay here, okay?” He told him finally, handing him the canteen. “Hold that. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get a doctor.”_

_Jeffery nodded and Duncan quickly got to his feet._

* * *

 

_“Gangrene.” Culbraith said. “Your friend should’ve stayed on the plantation.”_

_“If the leg comes off now, he’ll live.” Duncan told him._

_“My surgeon’s occupied.” Culbraith replied, lighting a lamp. “I have wounded of my own. He’ll have to wait.”_

_“But if he waits, he dies!” Duncan protested._

_“I didn’t put him in harm’s way, McLeod.” Culbraith said. “You did.”_

_“Colonel, he’s just a boy.” Duncan pleaded. “He’s a scared boy.”_

_“They’re all scared boys.” Culbraith told him._

_He looked at Duncan and sighed._

_“I’ll do what I can.” He said. “If my surgeon’s available, I’ll send him in the morning. Goodnight, McLeod.”_

_“Thank you.” Duncan said, heading to the door._

* * *

 

_“I didn’t figure he’d come.” Jeffery said as Duncan mopped his forehead._

_“You have to hold on, Jeffery.” Duncan told him. “I promise, he’ll be here in the morning.”_

_“I can wait.” Jeffery said. “Ain’t like I’m real anxious to see him.”_

_He laughed weakly, but it turned into a cough._

_“Mr. McLeod?” he asked._

_“Yeah?” Duncan replied._

_“Thank you.” Jeffery said._

_“For what?” Duncan asked. “I was the one who got you into this.”_

_“No.” Jeffery said, shaking his head. “I may be a prisoner, but I ain’t no slave.”_

* * *

 

_Duncan fought to see Culbraith the next morning._

_“Tell the colonel I need to see him!” he shouted as a sergeant made his way inside the office._

_Inside, the sergeant handed a letter to the colonel._

_“The courier said it was important.” He told Culbraith. “From your brother-in-law.”_

_“Thank you, sergeant.” Culbraith said as Duncan continued to yell outside._

_He moved to his desk and opened the letter._

_“_ Dear William, this heinous war has taken an even darker turn. _” It said. “_ It grieves me to tell you this, but your wife, my sister, and the children… _”_

_“Dismissed, sergeant.” Culbraith said, sitting down._

_The sergeant saluted and went to the door. When he saw it was open again, Duncan tried to get through it._

_“Sergeant.” Culbraith called._

_The sergeant let Duncan go and he moved inside the office._

_“I’ve come about the surgeon.” Duncan told him._

_“Your request is denied.” Culbraith told him._

_“What?” Duncan demanded. “You promised he be attended to today.”_

_“That is all.” Culbraith said._

_“Damn it, Culbraith, the man’s dying in agony.” Duncan exclaimed._

_Behind him he heard the sound of the sergeant cocking his gun and he turned to see the man level the weapon at him._

_“Agony is what this war is all about, Mr. McLeod.” Culbraith said._

_“At least give me a knife.” Duncan pleaded. “Let me try and save him!”_

_“You’ve had your answer.” Culbraith told him. “Sergeant!”_

_The man came up and took Duncan by the arm, but Duncan punched him, knocking him into the wall. Culbraith hit Duncan with the hilt of his sword and knocked him to the ground._

_“Get him out of here.” Culbraith ordered._

* * *

 

_Duncan held Jeffery as his breathing became more and more labored. He cried out in pain and Duncan held him tighter._

_“It hurts, Mr. McLeod.” Jeffery said._

_“I’m sorry, Jeffery.” Duncan told him. “I’m so sorry.”_

_“Make it stop.” Jeffery begged._

_“There’s nothing I can do.” Duncan told him._

_“Please.” Jeffery said. “I don’t wanna die like this.”_

_“I can’t.” Duncan said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”_

_“Mr. McLeod…” Jeffery said softly, “you have to.”_

_Duncan didn’t say anything for a moment._

_“Okay.” He said finally, nodding._

_He took Jeffery’s head in his hands as the boy began to hum. Duncan recognized it as Amazing Grace. Then, with one twist, Jeffery was gone._

_At that moment, Culbraith walked by. He stopped and looked at Duncan for a moment before moving on._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so I know nothing’s different now, but I promise the changes will start next chapter. I just want to stay true to the episode, so I need all the back story. Please just stick with it!  
> Abbey


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If I suddenly gain rights to this, I’ll let you know, okay?

Ch. 2:

“Maybe Culbraith was doing what he thought he had to do.” Richie said as he and Duncan walked into the Dojo. “You don’t know what made him like that.”

“You’re right.” Duncan agreed. “I don’t. And I don’t care.”

“But, Mac, if you talk to him, you might find that you understand each other.” Richie said, stopping Duncan. “You know, you might even find a reason not to fight.”

“I don’t need a reason to talk to him, Richie.” Duncan told him as he walked into his office. “Some people are evil. Not bad, not misunderstood, just plain evil. You don’t talk to evil, you destroy it.”

“But Mac, evil only exists because of fear.” Richie said. “That’s what Methos is talking about.”

Duncan stared at him through the window.

“Methos?” he asked, coming out of his office. “You talked to Methos?”

“I know.” Richie said. “Imagine that. The oldest Immortal alive. Here I thought he was a legend, and then he shows up out of the blue.”

“And feeds you this stuff about peace and love?” Duncan replied.

“Mac, this guy’s got wisdom and strength.” Richie said. “Listening to him is like listening to some kind of saint.”

“He’s no saint.” Duncan scoffed. “And I don’t care how old he is, he’s wrong.”

“Mac, you’re not hearing what I’m saying.” Richie said, following him as he went to the elevator. “I’m talking about a chance to change our lives forever. To live without being afraid.”

“What, without a head?” Duncan shot back.

“Sometimes I just don’t get you, Mac.” Richie said, shaking his head. “Sometimes I just don’t get you at all.”

Richie walked off and Duncan sighed as he got in the elevator. He lowered the grate and on his way up he felt another Immortal.

He opened the grate to find Methos himself lying on his bed, listening to music.

“Hey, grab a beer.” Methos called. “There’s a cold one in the fridge.”

“Yeah, I know.” Duncan told him as he walked towards him. “It’s my fridge. I thought you were out wandering the world.”

“Ah, Tibet.” Methos mused. “Yak butter plays hell with the digestion. Besides, I have a date to keep in Egypt, so I thought I’d stop off and say hi. Plus I’d had all the enlightenment I could use.”

He lifted the stereo remote and Duncan snatched it away.

“Maybe you should’ve kept it to yourself.” He told him.

“Sorry, I must’ve dozed off.” Methos said, sitting up as Duncan went to the stereo and turned it off. “What is it we’re talking about?”

“All that crock you’re feeding Richie.” Duncan told him.

“Right, and what crock would that be exactly?” Methos asked.

“Oh, you know.” Duncan said, walking around the bed. “Stop fighting, lay down your sword, give peace a chance. Ring a bell?”

He reached down and snatched Methos’ beer away.

“Wow.” Methos said, sitting up all the way. “So he’s here, is he?”

“Who’s here?” Duncan asked.

“The other Methos.” He replied, taking his shoes and getting up from the bed.

“The what?” Duncan asked as Methos went into the kitchen.

“I’ve never actually met the guy.” Methos said, setting his boots down on the counter. “But I’ve heard rumors. Wanders around the place, spreading his message to other immortals.”

He went to his bag and got a pair of pliers before walking back to his shoes.

“Using your name?” Duncan asked.

“Well, it’s not like it’s got a patent or anything.” Methos replied.

As he reached for his boots, Duncan took them away.

“Sounds like the guy’s started a franchise or something.” He said, moving Methos’ boots to the living room. “What about this line about peace and love? What’s that all about?”

“Well, maybe it’s exactly what he says it is.” Methos replied as Duncan threw his shoes on the ground and he threw Duncan’s jacket in retaliation.

“Turning the other cheek only gets you slapped harder.” Duncan said, picking up his jacket.

“But it’s got such a nice ring to it.” Methos protested. “Yeah, no more fighting, no more killing. Peace and harmony. Don’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about that.”

Duncan sighed and sat down.

“Some young sucker’s always going to fall for it.” Methos said, starting to work on his shoes.

“Richie has.” Duncan told him.

“Voila.” Methos said.

“He thinks the guy’s some kind of prophet.” Duncan said.

“Well, who’s to say he isn’t?” Methos replied.

“You are.” Duncan said, reaching over and snatching Methos’ pliers away. “This guy’s a fraud.”

“Look.” Methos said, standing up. “There are enough people out there who want my head for who I am. Now I am only saying, if he wants to play Methos, let him.”

“Even if it gets him killed?” Duncan asked.

“Yeah.” Methos replied. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

He reached down and picked up his shoe.

“Look at these boots.” He said. “What happened to craftsmanship? I only put 1,000 miles on these.”

He sighed and sat back down as Duncan moved to stand in front of him.

“You’re going to convince Richie that this guy is a fake.” Duncan said, waving Methos’ pliers at him.

“What makes you think he will believe me?” Methos demanded, snatching his pliers back.

“Because,” Duncan replied, snatching his boot, “you are going to be very sincere.”

Methos pursed his lips and looked up at Duncan.

“I left Katmandu for this?” he asked.

“Suck it up.” Duncan replied.

Methos reached up and snatched his boot back before they both froze. They heard the click of Duncan’s door opening.

“Duncan, it’s Eve.” A female British voice called. “Your door was open so I let myself in. Okay, so it wasn’t open, but when has that ever-“

She rounded the corner and saw Duncan and Methos. She was a tallish woman, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Over it, she had a black leather jacket. She was tan with green eyes and long black hair pulled into a pony tail.

“Methos, this is-“ Duncan started.

“Sekhmet!” Methos interrupted, jumping to his feet.

“Methos!” she shouted, running to him.

She leapt into his arms and he spun her around laughing, before setting her down and kissing her deeply.

“I take it you two know each other.” Duncan said look away.

Sekhmet pulled away and swatted Methos’ chest.

“You never told him?” she demanded.

“I didn’t know if he knew who you really were, so I just never mentioned it.” He said, not letting go of her. “Does this mean I don’t have to go to Egypt?”

“Yes.” She replied, before pulling away and hugging Duncan.

“Can someone please explain?” Duncan asked, returning the hug.

“Duncan, I’m sorry, but I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.” Sekhmet said, pulling away.

“About what?” he asked.

“Everything.” She said, smirking.

Methos took her hand and pulled her into his lap on the chair as Duncan sat down across from them. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned back into him.

“My name isn’t Eve Johnson.” She told him. “It’s Sekhmet. And I wasn’t born 600 years ago. More like 5,000. Methos and I died at the same time. He isn’t the oldest living Immortal, no matter what he says. He’s tied with me.”

“Not true.” Methos protested. “I woke up before you.”

“So you and Methos have known each other for 5,000 years?” Duncan asked.

“Well, sort of.” She replied. “See, we both thought the other was dead. We only met up again a century ago.”

“So why are you here?” Duncan asked, making Methos glare at him. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

“Stop glaring.” Sekhmet said, swatting Methos without looking at him. “This one and I were supposed to meet in Egypt in a month. I was just looking for a place to crash for a few days. Which reminds me.” She twisted to look at Methos. “I have stuff. Do you have a place here too, or are you just mooching off Duncan?”

“I have a place.” Methos replied.

“Then why are you always here, drinking my beer?” Duncan demanded.

“I get bored.” Methos replied.

“Okay, well since I’ve got stuff,” Sekhmet said, “do you mind if I drop it off at your place?”

“I’d planned on bringing you back here anyway.” He told her, kissing her neck. “It’s your place too, now.”

Sekhmet kissed him gently, smiling.

“Okay, well give me keys and directions so I can go clean up and get changed.” She said standing up.

“I’ll take you there.” Methos said, jumping to his feet.

“Oh no you don’t.” Duncan told him. “You have to come convince Richie not to commit suicide.”

“MacLeod.” Methos practically whined.

“No, you go help your friend.” Sekhmet told him. “I’ll meet you where ever you are.”

“We’ll be a Joe’s.” Duncan told her. “It’s a bar nearby that a friend runs. I’ll give you directions.”

He grabbed a pen and paper as Methos reluctantly handed over his keys.

“There’s a set for you hanging by the fridge.” He told her.

“I’ll only be an hour.” She told him. “Tops. And it sounds like you’re doing something important.”

“Here you go.” Duncan said, handing her the piece of paper. “I included directions to Methos’ place too.”

“Thanks, Duncan.” She said.

“It’s good to see you, Eve.” He said, hugging her. “Even if your name is Sekhmet now.”

She laughed and pulled away.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, Methos.” She said, smiling at him. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She kissed him and breezed back out the door.

“Come on, old man.” Duncan said, grabbing his coat and putting his arm around Methos’ shoulders.

“I hate you.” Methos muttered as he let Duncan lead him to the elevator.

* * *

“This has got to be some kind of a joke.” Richie said, motioning to Methos, who was lounging against the bar. “Joe, help me out here. I mean, 5,000 years of wisdom? Him?”

“Well, I don’t know about the wisdom, but yeah, 5,000.” Joe said. “That’s about right.”

The three immortals in the bar stiffened as the door opened.

“Everyone calm down, it’s just me.” Sekhmet called.

“You want proof, here comes some more.” Duncan said.

Richie turned around and his jaw dropped. Sekhmet was now dressed in a jean mini-skirt with a dark green tank top. Her hair was now hanging lose all the way to her waist and she had applied eyeliner that made her eyes even greener. She was wearing high heeled boots with a dagger tucked into one and was carrying her leather jacket in her hand.

“Heel boy.” Methos said, smiling. “You’re a little too young for her.”

“Watch it.” Sekhmet told him. “I’m pretty sure I can still kick your ass.”

“Who’s wondering?” Methos asked. “I’ll let you. I could just give you my sword. I don’t mind.”

She walked over to him and stood between his legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Methos immediately responded by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her as close as he could, returning the kiss with all he could. After a minute of this, Duncan cleared his throat.

“Who said I need a sword?” Sekhmet asked as she pulled away. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Methos replied, leaning his head against hers.

“And you would be?” Richie asked.

Sekhmet looked at both him and Joe before turning back to Methos.

“I can trust them?” she asked in Egyptian.

“Yes, you can trust them.” Methos replied in English. “That’s Joe Dawson and Richie Ryan.”

“I’m Sekhmet.” She said, turning back to the other two men. “I’m Methos’ betrothed. Have been for the last 5,000 years.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Methos said.

He turned her around so she was facing the other way and reached into his pocket.

“Close your eyes.” He said.

She did as he asked and he gently moved her hair out of the way before tying a necklace around her throat. She opened her eyes and her hand flew to the black ankh that once again rested on her chest.

“There.” Methos said, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Now it’s official again.”

She smiled and leaned into him.

“You can’t be Sekhmet.” Joe protested.

“You must be a Watcher.” Sekhmet said, smiling.

“How’d you know?” Joe asked.

“Because that’s the same look the last Watcher who found out who I was had on his face.” She replied. “So, why can’t I be Sekhmet?”

“Because she died over three thousand years ago, that’s why.” Joe told her.

“Ah, yes.” She said, nodding. “Her head was taken by Ariadne, if memory serves. And Ariadne’s was taken by Gwendolyn, who’s head was taken by Amelia, who’s head was taken by Eve, who’s head was supposedly taken by Duncan McLeod, but in truth he helped her escape from another immortal and she changed her name to Cassandra, and Cassandra has been living in a temple for the last century on Holy Ground. I believe Watchers call it the Sekhmet Line because since her death, each subsequent victor has been a woman. There’s just one problem with that.”

“What’s that?” Joe asked.

“They’ve all been me.” She replied.

“That’s bloody brilliant.” Methos said, kissing her cheek. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because I’ve always been the smart one.” She replied. “Plus you found your own place to hide.”

She took his hand and turned it over so she could clearly see the Watcher tattoo on his arm.

“You’ll have to tell me about it later.” She said.

“I will.” He promised.

“I don’t get it.” Richie said.

Sekhmet sighed.

“Around the time I turned 2,000 years old, I realized people were going to hunt me simply because I was that old.” She explained. “So I created the new identity of Ariadne and put it out that she had taken Sekhmet’s head. And so on and so forth. I never kept an identity for more than a few hundred years and no one even looked twice. The whole Sekhmet’s line thing actually helped because then only the women came after me.”

“So you’re Sekhmet.” Richie said slowly. “And you’re 5,000 years old too.”

“Yep.” She said brightly. “So someone want to fill me in on what’s going on?”

“I need a drink.” Joe said, pulling out a glass.

“Basically, there’s another Methos out there telling Immortals to stop fighting, lay down their swords, take hands, and start singing Kumbaya.” Methos summed up.

“Another Methos?” Sekhmet asked, her face scrunching in confusion. “Is he cuter?”

“Hey.” Methos said, squeezing her gently. “Watch it.”

“You know you’re the only one for me.” She replied, smiling up at him.

The others watched in shock at the way Methos was acting as he looked at her. It was so different than his normal demeanor. He looked…happy.

“Nope, I don’t buy it.” Richie said. “There’s no way they’re 5,000 years old.”

“Would you like me to tell you about what a bitch Cleopatra was?” Sekhmet asked. “It’s actually one of my favorite subjects.”

“I know it’s a little hard to believe, but what you see is what you get.” Duncan told him. “This is the real Methos and that’s the real Sekhmet. Although I didn’t know that part until about an hour ago.”

“Did I say I was sorry for lying to you?” Sekhmet asked.

“No.” he replied.

“I’m very sorry.” She replied, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, waving a hand at her.

“Love you, too, Duncan.” She said cheekily.

Methos tightened his hold on her and she grinned up at him before kissing his cheek.

“Love you most.” She said in Egyptian.

“You better.” He replied in the same language.

“You guys don’t understand what I’m saying.” Richie protested. “It’s not the name that I care about. I mean, this Methos, that Methos…It’s the message I believe in.”

“Richie, the message is wrong, and it’s going to get you killed!” Duncan stressed. “I mean, you just met this guy. What he’s saying goes against everything that we know. Why would you want to believe him?”

“Because he offered me his life.” Richie replied. “Now why would he do that?”

“Because he’s afraid to fight you.” Duncan suggested.

“Or because he knew you wouldn’t take it.” Methos suggested.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Richie scoffed.

“There’s one born every minute!” Methos said, smirking.

“Stop smirking at the poor boy.” Sekhmet said, elbowing him.

“How could you possibly know I was smirking?” Methos demanded. “You weren’t even looking at me!”

“I can hear it in your voice.” She replied, reaching around to grab his cup.

“I’d forgotten how annoy it is when you do that.” He told her. “And yes you can have some of my beer.”

“Thank you.” She said, setting it back down. “And you love me for it.”

“Can we get back on topic?” Joe asked.

“Fine, whatever.” Richie said, grabbing his jacket. “I mean, I am talking about peace here, fellas. I’m talking about a chance to end the killing forever. And you know something?” He looked straight at Duncan. “Of all people, I thought you would understand.”

He quickly turned and left.

“He’s young, alright?” Joe said. “Young people, they make mistakes.”

“Yeah, look at disco.” Methos said.

“Corsets.” Sekhmet added, shuddering.

“I rather liked the corset.” He told her.

“That’s because you just got to look at them.” She replied. “You didn’t have to wear one of the damn things.”

“I’ve got to get going.” Duncan said, standing up. “I’ve got someone to find.”

He leaned over and kissed Sekhmet’s cheek before heading to the door.

“I’m going to go check on this other Methos.” Joe said. “Maybe I’ll turn something up. It was really nice to meet you, Sekhmet.”

“You, too, Joe.” She replied, smiling.

He also walked off, leaving Methos and Sekhmet alone in the bar. Sekhmet turned around and wrapped her arms around Methos’ neck.

“So why don’t you and I find a nice, quiet, place and get reacquainted?” she said softly. “Cause a hundred years is a long time to spend in a temple and I saw that you seem to have a very nice bed.”

She laughed as he grabbed his coat and dragged her to the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, Sekhmet’s here! If you’re confused, you probably haven’t read Past in the Present, so you should go do that. And if you’re not confused and you’re actually reading this, please let me know! Review!
> 
> Abbey


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don’t own it.

Ch. 3:

Methos and Sekhmet lay in bed, Sekhmet with her head on Methos’ chest.

“So, tell me about the temple.” He said, slipping back into their natural language.

She sighed and looked up at him.

“What you really want to know is if I’m going to lose it again.” She said, grinning ironically up at him.

“I was trying to be subtle.” He replied.

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit, has it?” she asked, laughing.

“Just answer the question.” He told her.

“Master Si-cham eventually came up with a theory.” She said. “Since my first rampage, I haven’t lost myself to the bloodlust. Until I found you again. He thinks that I reacted that way because I thought you were in danger. He doesn’t think I would’ve taken your head even if I hadn’t died.”

“I don’t know, that sword was pretty close to my throat.” Methos disagreed.

Sekhmet turned over and gently kissed him.

“I’m sorry.” She told him.

“I’m blaming you, love.” He told her. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Well, as long as you stay safe, I think we’re safe.” She told him, resting her chin on his chest. “Tell me about Tessa.”

“You really know how to ruin a mood, don’t you?” he groaned.

“Come on.” She said, swatting his chest. “She was my friend. I want to know what happened.”

“Well, two years after you left, we got married.” He told her.

“Really?” she said sitting up. “Congratulations!”

“You’ve got to be the only woman on the planet who would congratulate the man she just slept with on his marriage to an old friend of hers.” He said, laughing.

“Yeah, but we’re different, aren’t we?” she said. “Now tell me the rest of it. Did she ever find the people who killed her father?”

“Yes.” He said. “Grisham pulled the trigger, but Montoya and some of the other Dons ordered it to get control of his lands. They didn’t count on Tessa being so strong willed. She really was amazing.”

“Yes, she was.” Sekhmet agreed, lying back down. “I hope she made them suffer.”

“Fate took it out of her hands.” Methos replied, sadness creeping into his voice. “Six years after you left, a flu epidemic swept through southern California. Pretty much everyone got sick, including Tessa and Marta. Marta got better, Tessa didn’t.”

“Oh, Methos, I’m so sorry.” Sekhmet said, hugging him gently.

“It’s alright.” He replied. “The only good thing that came out of it was Grisham and Montoya both died too. And Tessa was never found out. The secret of the Queen of Swords went to the grave with her.”

“And Marta?” Sekhmet asked.

“She survived and I took her away from Santa Helena.” Methos said. “I made sure she had everything she wanted, but I think, without Tessa, she didn’t really have a purpose. Finally, I found her family and took her to them. She lived with them until she died in her sleep ten years later.”

“How did you wind up with the Watchers?” Sekhmet asked.

“Thought it was a good place to hide.” He replied. “I mean, who would look for an Immortal inside the secret society watching them? Plus I got myself assigned to the Methos Chronicles, so I’d be the one looking for myself.”

“Very smart.” Sekhmet said.

“I thought so.” Methos replied smugly.

“And that’s not at all egotistical sounding.” She said, poking him.

He grabbed her arm and rolled over, pinning her under him.

“Who’s egotistical?” he asked, smirking down at her.

“I’d still say you.” She replied, smirking up at him. “I didn’t say it was without reason.”

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

* * *

Culbraith was working on his boat when he felt the presence of another. He quickly stood and grabbed his sword, walking towards the end of the dock. At the end was the other Methos.

“Who are you?” Culbraith demanded.

“They call me Methos.” The man replied.

“And you’re looking for me.” Culbraith said.

“Yes.” The other Methos said. “But not for the reason you think.”

He opened his coat to show Culbraith he wasn’t armed.

“I carry no sword.” He told him.

“Then you’re a fool.” Culbraith told him.

He held up his sword and pointed it at the other Methos.

“If you kill me,” Methos told him, “we won’t be able to talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.” Culbraith told him, shaking his head.

“There’s you.” Methos replied. “What you are, what you were. Why you feel as you do.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.” Culbraith said, lowering his sword and walking away.

“I know others who’ve known you.” Methos told him, following. “They say that William Culbraith was a soldier. They say he lost his loved ones.”

“Everybody has.” Culbraith replied, stopping and turning to look at him.

“Does that make it any less painful?” Methos asked.

“I told my family about holy ground.” Culbraith told him. “They thought they were safe. Union soldiers found them hiding in a church. They burned it to the ground with them in it.”

“You wanted to weep, but you couldn’t.” Methos said, walking closer. “You wanted to raise them up, hear them laugh again. But they were gone forever. So, you went out to kill.”

“As many as I could.” Culbraith agreed, looking at his sword.

“But that didn’t end the pain.” Methos said. “So you kept on killing. Until you could no longer see their faces.”

“I tried.” Culbraith said softly. “I tried to remember Jesus, but I couldn’t.”

Methos stepped forward and took Culbraith by the shoulders.

“I know what you’re feeling, William Culbraith.” He told him. “And I know how to end it.”

They both froze as they sensed another Immortal. A second later, Duncan rounded the corner with his sword in his hand. Culbraith raised his sword and went towards Duncan, but Methos stopped him.

“I’m Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.” Duncan told him.

“This doesn’t have to be.” Methos told him. “Please. Put up your sword.”

“You must be the new prophet.” Duncan said. “Well, we can talk about it after.”

Methos stepped between the two men.

“Whatever he did to you, he did out of pain.” He told Duncan. “Because of what others had done to him. But it can end here. You can end it.”

“It’ll end when I take his head.” Duncan replied.

“Is that what Darius taught you?” Methos asked, walking past Duncan. “Yes, I knew Darius. I know what he tried to do for you. How much he loved you. Would he be proud of this?”

* * *

_Darius walked up behind Duncan as he surveyed the battlefield. As he looked out over the dead._

_“You shouldn’t be taking part in this tragedy.” Darius told him._

_“I was raised a warrior.” Duncan replied. “I choose battles I believe to be just.”_

_“Oh, I’m sure.” Darius said. “You’re quite loyal to your convictions and compatriots. But I wonder what these men think about that, about convictions and compatriotism now.”_

_He pulled up his hood and left Duncan amid the dead and dying._

* * *

“When Darius asked you to consider peace, you listened.” The other Methos told him. “You tried.”

“You’re not Darius.” Duncan shot back.

“I carry the same message.” Methos replied.

“Even if you convince a thousand to follow you, it just takes one to start the killing.” Duncan told him. “Just one.”

“Will you be that one, MacLeod?” Methos asked him, stepping between him and Culbraith so Duncan’s sword rested on his neck. “The one who wouldn’t consider peace?”

Duncan glared at him for a moment before withdrawing his blade and leaving. The other Methos sighed and turned back to Culbraith.

“Choose peace.” He told him.

He turned and walked away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so let me know what you thought.
> 
> Abbey


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Please leave me alone.

Ch. 4:

The other Methos was working in his garden and sat up as he felt another Immortal. He turned to see Sekhmet and Methos standing on the ridge above him.

“Methos, I presume.” The real Methos called.

“So they tell me.” The other Methos replied.

Methos smirked and glanced at Sekhmet. To anyone else, she would’ve looked at ease, but he could see her tension at approaching an unknown Immortal, so he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently before they made their way down to the other man.

“You know, it’s, um, interesting.” Methos said brightly as they approached. “We were always told that you were a myth. And yet you look very, very real. Tell me; is it true that you were a friend of Socrates?”

“Oh, I’ve had many friends.” The other Methos replied.

“And, um, I-I’ve always wondered…” Methos said, bending over to look at the man with eagerness. “Cleopatra, what was she really like?”

“A stuck up, spoiled, bitch of a princess who had no respect for her elders.” Sekhmet muttered in Egyptian.

Methos glanced back with a glare and she shrugged.

“It’s the truth.” She told him.

“She was a woman.” The other Methos replied, getting up and moving around the planter. “She loved, she lived, she died.”

“Took down most of Egypt with her and left it to the barbarian Romans.” Sekhmet muttered in Egyptian again.

“Stop it.” Methos told her in the same language.

“Sorry.” She replied, not really looking it.

“Speaking of women.” Methos said, looking back at his imposter. “What of Sekhmet? Legend says that she was your greatest love. That when you lost her, you lost your mind.”

“Sekhmet was mortal.” The other Methos said, not looking up. If he had, he would’ve seen Sekhmet’s annoyance, and Methos holding her back with a hand on her arm. “Mortal’s lives are fleeting. In the blink of an eye, death takes them.”

“Yeah, speaking of death…” Methos said, giving Sekhmet one last look before drawing his sword and pointing it at the other Methos’ neck. “You seem very vulnerable.”

He moved the sword away and polished the blade against his sleeve as the other man looked up at him.

“We’re all vulnerable.” The other Methos said.

“Yes, but you a little more than me, I think.” Methos said casually pointing his sword back at the other man. “I mean, a lot of people might want the head of a 5,000 year old man.”

He lowered his sword so the point was on the ground.

“A lot of people might want to listen to a 5,000 year old man.” The other Methos replied.

“I suppose that’s true.” Methos agreed. “I mean, 50 centuries, after all, you must have learnt a lot. Knowledge, wisdom, that sort of thing.”

“Truth is, my beliefs are very simple.” The other Methos told him.

“Yes, I heard about your beliefs.” Methos said, smiling slightly. “Do you really think there’s no such thing as evil?”

“Only fear.” The man replied.

“So, Genghis Khan, Hitler?” Sekhmet asked as the man stood up. “They were what? Misbehaving children? I’m sure that’ll give their victims comfort. Well, it would if they hadn’t slaughtered them.”

“They were men.” The other Methos told her, kneeling back down. “Driven by fear to commit evil acts.”

“And if their mothers had loved them truly, it would have been a different world.” Methos said sarcastically.

“Could you say it wouldn’t?” the other Methos shot back.

“What about the Game?” Methos asked. “Do you really think we can end the Game?”

“I think it’s worth trying.” The other Methos said.

Sekhmet moved from behind Methos and kneeled next to the other man, gently resting her dagger against his throat.

“Even if it costs you your head?” she asked softly, tilting her head to the side.

Methos watched as the other man studied Sekhmet, ready to step in and stop her if he thought she had gone too far.

“Can anyone live for 5,000 years and say they did nothing?” the other Methos asked her. “Risked nothing? Merely stayed alive? It’d be pointless.”

Sekhmet chuckled softly as she stood back up. Methos relaxed slightly and swung his sword up to rest on his shoulder. Sekhmet moved back to stand next to her lover again as the other Methos got to his feet.

“Some might think that that experience was worth saving.” Methos said.

“I’m not one of them.” The other said. “But we can talk about it.”

Methos lowered his sword.

“No, we’ve got a prior engagement, I’m afraid.” He said, draping his arm around Sekhmet’s shoulders and leading her away.

Methos slipped his sword back into his coat and Sekhmet rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist as they walked off up the path.

“I didn’t catch your names.” The other Methos called after them.

“No, that’s right.” Methos replied. “You didn’t.”

* * *

Methos angrily paced inside Joe’s bar as Duncan stood at the bar and Joe and Sekhmet sat at a table.

“A little pathos, a little pop psychology…” he exclaimed. “The guy is either delusional, or he is a fraud.” He went to stand next to Duncan. “And you are buying it.”

“I’m not buy anything!” Duncan protested.

“No?” Sekhmet sneered. “One speech from the crazy one and you forgive Culbraith! The man’s a crack pot! Next up: Friendship rings and the Love Boat!”

She took a swig from her beer and huffed. Duncan and Joe looked at Methos, who shrugged.

“He said she was just a mortal.” He told them. “Apparently she didn’t take kindly to that.”

Sekhmet muttered angrily in Egyptian and Methos rolled his eyes.

“Despite her angered ramblings, she has a point.” He told Duncan. “One little talk from the Wise One and you’ve forgiven Culbraith? Where’s the Highlander we know and love? Because he would’ve taken Culbraith’s head for what he did.”

“I haven’t forgiven him.” Duncan replied. “It just made me think.”

“Ooooh.” Methos mocked, leaning on the bar.

Duncan turned and glared at him, and Methos relented.

“I’m just saying, don’t think too much, ‘cause we can’t afford another one on the list.” He told him.

“What list?” Duncan asked.

“Asked Joe.” Sekhmet said as Methos pulled her to her feet. He sat down and then pulled her back down into his lap.

“I uh…” Joe said. “I did some checking on this Methos flake.”

Sekhmet stared at him as Methos ignored him and poured another drink, which Sekhmet quickly appropriated.

“The other one.” Joe amended.

“Thank you.” Sekhmet said, handing the almost empty cup back to Methos.

He looked at it and sighed before refilling it again.

“Anyway.” Joe said. “He’s left a trail of dead Immortals behind him.”

“He’s killing the off?” Duncan asked, surprised.

“No, he’s just suckering them in.” Sekhmet said. “Convince one Immortal to lay down arms, the next one to come along takes their head.”

“Meanwhile,” Methos said, “our gentle friend moves on, spreading the word.”

“Well, I’m not a convert.” Duncan said, sitting down.   “And I don’t intend to be.”

“Well great.” Joe said. “What about Richie?”

* * *

Duncan and Richie sat on the steps outside a church, talking.

“It’s a lot to think about, what life and death means.” Duncan said. “If it means anything.”

“I want him to be right Mac.” Richie told him.

“I know.” Duncan replied.

“I don’t like killing.” Richie said.

“You’re not supposed to.” Duncan told him.

“You see, Mac?” Richie asked. “Change has got to start somewhere. Wouldn’t you like to live your life without looking over your shoulder?”

“Yeah, but it’s not possible, not in this life.” Duncan said. “We do what we do because we have to, we have no choice.”

Richie looked at him.

“There’s a lot of evil out there, and it’s up to people who can stop it to do so.” Duncan continued. “If we don’t, if we do nothing, than evil wins.”

“That’s it?” Richie asked. “It’s just that simple?”

“Whatever it is, it’s not simple.” Duncan said.

“Listen Mac, I respect you more than anyone I’ve known, but I have to make my own decision about this.” Richie told him.

“I know you do.” Duncan said.

Richie nodded and Duncan got up, leaving him alone.

* * *

 

“For like 20 minutes, you haven’t said a word.” Richie said.

He was standing next to the other Methos as he sat in his garden.

“Go home Richie.” The man told him.

“Why?” Richie demanded, walking around to sit on the chair next to him. His sword was shoved into the ground next to him. “What did I do?”

“You’re not ready yet.” He told him. “You’ll give it up when the time is right.”

“So you’re pissed.” Richie said, leaning back.

“No, I’d just rather not have weapons in my presence.” The other Methos told him.

“I know, but I told you, this goes against everything I was taught.” Richie defended himself, gently touching his sword.

“Spartans left their children on a hillside to die.” The other Methos told him, standing up. “It wasn’t right, but it was what they were taught. We act because we are taught to act; we kill because we are taught to kill, because we fear death.”

“Aren’t you afraid to die?” Richie asked.

“Of course.” The other Methos replied. “I’m no fool. You wonder if that’s why I do all this. Because I’m afraid to fight. ” He paused for a moment. “Get up.”

“What?” Richie asked, confused.

“Get up.” He repeated.

He grabbed a hoe and threw it at Richie.

“Come at me.” He told the younger man.

Richie circled him for a moment before feebly lunging at him, but the other Methos knocked it aside.

“You can do better than that.” He told him.

Richie lunged at him again, with more conviction this time, and Methos grabbed the hoe, knocking him on his ass. He threw the hoe aside as Richie got to his feet.

“I wasn’t ready for that.” Richie told him as Methos picked up his sword.

Methos brought it over and held it out to him.

“This time, use your sword.” He told him.

Richie took it, but he didn’t move.

“Strike.” Methos ordered.

“No.” Richie replied.

“I said, strike.” Methos said, stalking forward.

“No.” Richie repeated.

“Strike!” he yelled, punching Richie across the face.

Richie stumbled before getting his balance back and attacking with his sword. Methos grabbed his sword and took it way before swinging it at Richie.

“Sometimes the best peacemakers are those who are most experienced in war.” He told him, pointing the sword at Richie’s throat and circling the young man. “It’s not that I won’t fight, it’s that I refuse to kill.”

He drove the sword into the ground.

“And that’s why you don’t want them around.” Richie said, nodding to it.

“My faith is my defense.” The other Methos said. “So far, it’s worked.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” Richie told him.

“Richie, don’t believe because of my strength.” Methos replied. “Believe because of your own, because you want to.”

“I do.” Richie said, nodding.

* * *

Richie came into the loft to find Duncan and Sekhmet working on dinner. Well, Duncan was working. Sekhmet was sitting on the counter, mooching.

“Hi there, Rich!” Sekhmet said, smiling. “Hungry?”

“What is it with you and Methos?” Duncan asked, walking over with a pot. “You have your own apartment.”

“Methos is working on something and I get bored easily.” She replied, smiling.

“Anyway, dinner’s almost ready, if you want it.” Duncan told Richie.

“Um, no thanks.” He replied.

“Well, how ‘bout a work out?” Duncan asked, walking back to the sink. “I can put this away and we can go have a work out afterward, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” Richie replied.

“So, why’d you come?” Duncan asked, turning around to look at him.

Richie took out his sword and held it out. Duncan sighed and walked over to him.

“Richie, think about this.” He told him.

“I have, Mac.” Richie replied. “I’ve thought about as much as I’ve ever thought about anything in my entire life.”

“Do you realize what you’re doing?” Duncan asked. “This is not just a weapon, this is a part of us, a part of who we are.”

“Not me.” Richie said, sighing. “It’s not who I am. Not anymore.”

He shook his head and put the sword down on the table.

“Sekhmet, help me here.” Duncan said.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked seriously. “If this is his choice, than we have to respect it. He’s an adult and we have to let him make his choice.”

“Thank you.” Richie said, nodding to her.

“That being said.” Sekhmet said, hopping down and going to stand next to Duncan. “If you ever need anything, help, a friend, you know where we are.”

He nodded and Sekhmet hugged him. Richie returned it before pulling away and looking at Duncan.

“Look, we don’t have to agree on this.” He told him. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Duncan replied, resting his hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you.” Richie told him.

He walked to the elevator and Duncan let him. Sekhmet reached over and hugged him around the middle.

“Come on.” She said softly. “Let’s finish dinner.”

He nodded and let her lead him back into the kitchen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What did you guys think? I wanted to show that Duncan and Sekhmet have a real friendship, so I hope that came across. Let me know.
> 
> Abbey


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don’t even try to sue me. The only think you could possibly get is my debts.

Ch. 5:

The other Methos stood in his garden, trimming a bush, when he stiffened, sensing someone else. Culbraith appeared behind him, sword drawn.

“You’re not hard to find.” Culbraith told him.

“I don’t try to be.” The other Methos replied, going back to his trimming.

“I thought about what you said.” He told the other Methos. “About…how I was. And how I came to be what I am.”

“You had no choice, William.” The other Methos told him. “You were made into what you are.”

“And you think I could change?” Culbraith asked.

“I know you can.” The other Methos told him.

“If I wanted to.” Culbraith agreed.

He raised his sword and pointed it at the other man.

“And I don’t.” he said.

“I don’t believe that.” The other Methos said turning around. “This is a mistake, William.”

“You’re mistake.” Culbraith agreed. “I’ll have the head of Methos.”

“I looked into your heart.” The other Methos said. “I know I reached you.”

“And found your death.” Culbraith replied.

“If this is what is in your heart, to kill an unarmed man, who kneels before you.” The other Methos said, getting to his knees. “Then I was wrong. But I don’t believe I was wrong.”

Culbraith raised his sword.

“Believe.” He told him.

He swung.

* * *

Methos, Sekhmet, Duncan, and Joe sat in the dojo office, drinking.

“So Richie’s his newest disciple.” Methos said, sitting down on the arm of Sekhmet’s chair. “Isn’t that cute.”

“Methos.” Sekhmet sighed.

“Oh, and I supposed you would know just what to do.” Joe said sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah.” Methos agreed. “Standard response to unforeseen dilemmas, perfected over many centuries.”

“What?” Duncan asked.

“Nothing.” Methos replied.

“You know, I think I liked the other Methos better.” Joe said.

“No, he’s right.” Sekhmet said.

“Really?” Duncan asked.

“If we try to interfere, we’re saying we don’t trust Richie.” She explained. “He’s an adult. Not only that, he’s an Immortal. He has to be allowed to make his own choices, even if we think he’s wrong. So we do nothing.”

“Is that what you meant, Methos?” Joe asked, smirking at him.

Methos opened his mouth and Sekhmet’s hand flew up to cover his.

“Of course it is.” She answered for him. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

She moved her hand up and down so that he nodded. Methos glared at her, making the other two chuckle. In response, Methos glared at them and took Sekhmet’s hand off his mouth.

“I think maybe I’ll just go…look at the graffiti in the men’s room.” He said, stalking off.

“Is it just me or is this guy really being a JERK?!” Joe called after him.

Methos glared at him again, but moved on, shrugging on his coat as he went. Sekhmet sighed and stood up, draining her drink and grabbing her jacket.

“How do you put up with him?” Joe asked her.

“Not seeing him for 5,000 years helps.” Sekhmet said, pulling on her jacket. “You have no idea what it’s like to mourn someone you love for that long and then find them alive. I think I would probably put up with anything at the moment.”

“You don’t agree with him.” Joe said.

“No, I think he’s right.” Sekhmet disagreed. “We should do nothing.”

She smiled slightly and followed her lover out of the room, but she’s stopped at the door.

“I think that this imposter is dangerous.” She told the men. “I think he’s going to get Richie killed. But if you swoop in every time you think he’s making a mistake, how is he supposed to ever have integrity?”

She nodded to them before walking out the door.

“There’s nothing to do.” Duncan agreed. “It’s Richie’s decision, and we have to respect it.”

“What?” Joe demanded. “Even if it kills him?”

“I taught him how to survive.” Duncan replied. “What he does with that is up to him.”

* * *

Richie came down into the garden, but instead of the other Methos, he found Culbraith.

“Hey.” Richie said, walking up to him.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you.” Culbraith told him. “I never thanked you for saving my life.”

“It’s not a problem.” Richie replied. “I mean, it’s what he teaches.”

“Yeah.” Culbraith agreed, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, I’ve never met anyone quite like the old man. It’s hard to imagine how he’s lived this long without a sword. How are you managing?”

“Well, I guess, faith can take you a long way.” Richie replied. “You?”

“Faith?” Culbraith said, reaching over the side of his chair. “I don’t have any faith. No faith at all.”

He pulled out his sword and stood up, pointing it right at Richie.

* * *

“Some guy comes along, says everything is just rosy.” Joe said, pacing in front of Duncan. “No more death, no more fear. Well, hell, Richie’s going to buy into that. But it’s a mistake that’s gonna cost him.”

“Well, it’s his to make.” Duncan replied, studying his glass. “Sekhmet’s right. It’s about integrity.”

* * *

“Hey, buddy, don’t do it.” Richie said, backing up. “You know this is wrong.”

“Is it?” Culbraith asked, stalking after him. “Well, I guess old habits die hard.”

He swung his sword and Richie ducked out of the way.

“But he saved your life.” Richie protested. “I mean, didn’t you listen to him?!”

“Right up till the end.” Culbraith confirmed. “Now, are you going to make it as easy as he did, or are you going to put up a fight?”

He swung again, and Richie ducked again.

* * *

“Okay.” Methos said, walking back.

Sekhmet was right behind him and she leaned against the door jam, smiling as she watched him.

“There’s this Spanish guy, Alejandro Diego Spinoza.” Methos explained, throwing his jacket down on the chair. “One day, he gets called in by the Inquisition for questioning.”

“I did not like the Inquisition.” Sekhmet said, shuddering. “They burned me at the stake not once, not twice, but a grand total of ten times.”

“Can I finish?” Methos asked her.

“Of course.” She said, waving a hand. “Continue.”

“Thank you so much.” He told her sarcastically before taking a breath and continuing. “So he was tortured. Red hot pincers, tongs, you know the drill. Now, all he has to do is say no. Okay? Very simple word. They take his home, his money, his lands, but he will not give in.”

“So, what happened?” Joe asked.

“You were there.” Methos said, looking at Sekhmet. “You wanna tell them?”

“He died.” She replied seriously. “In unimaginable agony. But you know what? He kept his integrity.”

Duncan made a face before standing up.

“Don’t save my seat.” He said, heading for the door. “Let yourselves out.”

The other three watched him go and Joe looked at Methos.

“You are one calculatin’ son-of-a-bitch.” He told the male Immortal.

“Me?” Methos exclaimed. “What about her?”

Sekhmet smiled and sat down, pouring herself a drink.

“I’m just a bitch.” She replied, leaning back and taking a sip.

Methos smiled and shook his head as Joe sighed.

* * *

Culbraith kicked Richie in the face and sent him tumbling down the hill. As Richie climbed to his feet, he followed him down.

“I guess, when you get down to it, we’re all the same.” Culbraith said.

“Not all of us.” Richie shot back. “He was different.”

Culbraith slashed and caught Richie in the stomach, leaving a bloody wound.

“We were meant for war.” Culbraith told him.

They both froze when they felt another and looked up the ridge. Standing above them was Duncan.

“You can’t interfere, MacLeod.” Culbraith told him. “The battle’s been joined.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Duncan replied.

He pulled out Richie’s sword and threw it into the air. Richie immediately rolled and came up, sword in hand, stabbing Culbraith in the abdomen in the process. He knocked Culbraith’s sword away and slowly stood up, never removing the sword.

“Is this the part where I beg for mercy?” Culbraith sneered. “Or you say we don’t have to do this?”

“Neither.” Richie replied.

He pulled his sword out and Culbraith fell to his knees.

Duncan turned and walked away as Richie swung his sword.

As the Quickening began, Richie saw the faces of the soldiers Culbraith had killed, finally at peace.

* * *

Richie, Methos, and Duncan sat in the loft. Sekhmet brought a beer to where Methos was sprawled on the couch and handed it to him before sitting down between his legs and curling up into his chest.

“Did you really think peace between us was possible?” she asked Richie.

“I’d like to think so.” Richie replied.

“It would be nice.” Duncan said, playing with an abacus.

“You know, I don’t even know what his real name was.” Richie said. “I mean, I know he wasn’t the _real_ Methos. Maybe it wasn’t right either, but he was a good man.”

Methos sighed and made Sekhmet sit up.

“Listen, I’m sorry I disappointed you, kid.” He said, getting up.

Sekhmet sighed and let him pull her to her feet.

“That’s okay.” Richie said as they walked by.

“Later.” Methos told him, taking Sekhmet’s hand.

“Old timer.” Richie called, standing up. “You got any words of wisdom for me?”

Methos stopped and looked at him.

“Nope.” He replied, turning back.

Duncan and Sekhmet laughed.

“What about you?” Richie asked Sekhmet.

She smiled and let go of Methos’ hand to walk over to him.

“Yeah.” She replied. “Respect your elders.”

Richie laughed and she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Stay in touch.” She told him softly. “I’m gonna need to know where to send the wedding invitation.”

He nodded and she pulled away.

“It was nice meeting you, Richie Ryan.” She said, sauntering back to Methos.

Richie shook his head as she wrapped her arm around Methos’ waist and he grinned at her.

“I need to locate a friend.” She said as they headed for the door. “I’m gonna need a maid of honor. You ever met a woman named Amanda?”

Richie and Duncan watched as Methos froze, but Sekhmet kept walking. Duncan laughed as Methos glanced back and he saw genuine fear in the man’s eyes.

“Uh, Sekhmet?” Methos called after. “Maybe we should talk about this!”

The door closed and Duncan and Richie chuckled. They were silent for a moment, but then Richie started to talk.

“Well, uh, thanks for saving my life.” He told his mentor. “Again.”

“Yeah, all I did was level the playing field.” Duncan replied.

“You know, Mac, I think I’m gonna head out of town for awhile.” Richie said, walking over to where his helmet was hanging. “Just get on my bike and try to figure some stuff out.”

“One of those big questions?” Duncan asked.

“Oh yeah.” The younger Immortal replied.

“If you don’t find the answers, keep looking.” Duncan told him.

“I will.” Richie agreed, heading for the elevator.

“Richie.” Duncan stopped him. “Be safe.”

Richie nodded.

“You too, Mac.” He said.

Duncan nodded and Richie got in the elevator.

* * *

Sekhmet and Methos watched as Richie climbed on his bike.

“You know, I’ve watched a lot of Immortals over the years.” She said. “I think Richie could be one of the ones who makes it.”

“Maybe.” Methos agreed. “But he has a long way to go.”

“Yeah.” Sekhmet said. “But there was another Immortal I thought the same about long ago.”

“Who?” he asked.

“The Highlander.” She replied. “He was brash, and impulsive. He was everything that I thought was a bad idea in an Immortal, but he made it work. I think, given time, Richie could too.”

Methos was quiet for a moment. Finally, he wrapped his arm around her.

“Then we’ll just have to try to make sure that he makes it.” He told her.

She smiled and leaned her head against him, letting him lead her away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let me know what you think. Story continued in the story The Methos and Sekhmet Chronicles: The Proposal, coming soon to a computer near you.
> 
> Abbey


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